Wanderlust Hearts
by mafolie
Summary: Lily Harte has been running her entire life and a certain doctor has only ever wanted to escape. Their serendipitous meeting sets into motion a sequence of events that will test their resolve. Will their wanderlust hearts win out and force them to flee, or will they remain and hold strong to a future they might end up with? Rated M for mature themes, language, and events.
1. Chapter 1

"**The marks humans leave are too often scars." - John Green**

It was one of those nights where the smell of booze wafting around me was making me sick to my stomach. One of those nights where if I had to deal with one more obnoxious man telling me I had "great tits" I was going to break his nose and projectile vomit, probably at the same time. One of those nights where the weight of my life was pressing on me to the point where I was ready to take off again and not look back.

I had built a solid life for myself here, though, I had finally gotten a decent studio apartment, was making my entire rent check from tips alone, and there was no chance in hell my past could catch up with me here, considering, as far as the Canadian government was concerned, I had simply fallen off the radar, not hopped the border at Niagara Falls.

I had gradually worked and hitched my way through New York, but the huge population sent me into a tailspin and I fled further south until I ended up where I am today. I now live just outside Quantico in Virginia. In hindsight it was a stupid move, but I think the danger of the FBI literally being housed in my backyard is what attracted me to the location.

I stared at my reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror and sighed, pushing my crimson hair back from my face and touching up my eyeliner slightly. It was only midnight and I still had three hours to go before the bar finally shut down for the night. Plastering a fake grin on my face I left the bathroom, tugging the skin tight black dress down slightly in a vain attempt at covering my pale thighs a bit more. It was futile, the so called "uniform" was designed to optimize tips from the skeezy patrons. I had to admit that it worked fantastically, but it made me feel like a cheap hooker.

The night progressed like it always did; slowly and with great struggle, but I made enough in tips to buy my groceries for the week. I guess I couldn't really complain too much, between this and my day job, I was more than set money wise, however the long hours drained my energy and spirit.

I left the bar a little after 3:00 AM. I had changed into a pair of grey sweats, slung low on my hips, a pair of Vans, and a black wifebeater. I had a baggy unzipped blue hoodie on to keep me warm against the slight chill. Upon exiting the building I threw my red hair up in a bun. I couldn't wait to get home and snag a few hours sleep before heading to the diner I worked at during the day time.

I clutched my messenger bag tight against my shoulder as I hurried to the train station a few blocks away so that I could hop on the last (first?) train to my home in Fredericksburg. It was a pain to travel back and forth to Quantico at night, but money talks in this world I guess.

I reached the station quickly, and began digging around in my bag, searching for my pass.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck," I cursed under my breath, unable to find the one thing that can get me home.

"Are you okay?" My head shot up and my eyes trained on the long man standing a few feet away. He had a soft look on his face, and wavy brown hair cut somewhat short. I watched him warily for a moment, but when he made no threatening move I relaxed noticeably.

"Um, yeah, I can't find my train pass. I think I have some money to spare though..." I trailed off and pulled out my tips, turning slightly away for the disheveled man to count them.

I needed $200 this week to pay my heat and light. My tips only came to $125.58, nothing to spare for train fair. I sighed deeply and shoved the money back in my bag and turned my face skyward. I would have to walk which would probably take me two hours. That gave me two more hours to shower and get to the diner for my shift. I jumped slightly when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"How much do you need?" he asked me softly. I flushed and shook my head.

"I couldn't, honestly, it's okay I'll find another way home," I insisted, pulling back from him slightly. I didn't want to take money from a stranger, even one that seemed as genuine as him.

"Please, I insist. You can pay me back by maybe keeping me company?" My eyes narrowed. So this was his game. He thought I was a prostitute.

"Look buddy, I don't know what you think I am, but I will not exchange favours for money. I'm not that-"

"Oh no!" The man looked horrified. "I meant genuinely keep me company and chat with me on the way to Fredericksburg! I didn't think you were a prostitute! I'm FBI," he pulled out his badge as proof and I relaxed slightly. I didn't want to bring up the fact that there was more than one case of law enforcement being involved in prostitution since he seemed so completely upset by the misunderstanding. I sighed slightly, and smiled up at him.

I wasn't short by any means, maybe 5'6" or so, but this man towered over me reaching at least 6'3". He was long and lean, all limbs but it was easy to see that there was a lot of power compacted in that frame in much the same way as a cheetah's lean body contained power.

"Well when you put it that way, sure why not?" I smiled softly at him, and he handed me enough money for a ticket which I then went and bought.. "My name is Lily, by the way."

"I'm Spencer." He was obviously somewhat shy, I could hear it in the way he said his own name. He seemed childlike in the interaction; adorably awkward and was probably neurotic.

"It's nice to meet you Spence, you're like my own angel," I laughed a bit, "if it weren't for you I'd be walking home right now." He looked mortified.

"Do you realize that in Virginia there have been 15,968 violent crimes in the past year? And walking from Quantico to Fredericksburg is like asking to be attacked?" I raised an eyebrow at him as the young man continued on his rant. The train pulled up to the station and we got on together and sat down on the mostly empty train.

Sitting side by side I continued listening to him, actually enjoying the sound of his voice. It was soft and melodic but had a slight fire behind it. Listening to it I began to doze off slightly, the sound and motion of the train lulling me into a light sleep.

I knew I shouldn't let my guard down. I knew I should prepare to run. I knew that this man, Spencer, would never be more than an interesting, kind man that I met once and would never see again, and yet my body couldn't resist curling into his strong shoulder. My nose couldn't resist the soft smell of his jacket; soap and scotch. The combination of everything was a heady mixture that was acting like a sedative on my already exhausted body and before I realized it, I was asleep on the shoulder of a man I had just met.


	2. Chapter 2

"**Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future." - Oscar Wilde**

The train was slowing to a stop when a smooth hand rubbing my cheek woke me up. The fingertips were soft and gentle, but there was a specific roughness to the palm - calluses - that signified he worked hard for a living. It roused me from my sleep, slowly at first, but then I realized consciously that somebody was touching me. I jolted upright and looked at Spencer, blushing furiously thoroughly embarrassed that this stranger had just been used as a pillow.

"I'm sorry. Did I drool on your jacket?" I asked him, completely horrified. Spencer just laughed and shook his head smiling at me with a placid expression as if trying to quell my insecurities.

"No, no. It's okay. I didn't want to wake you, but we're almost there now." I nodded and stood up from my seat. Leaning down I picked up my messenger bag from the floor as the train came to a complete stop. "So am I really that boring?" I looked up at Spencer to catch him smiling slightly, bashfully, and caught myself grinning sheepishly at him.

"Actually your voice is very soothing," I admitted while stepping around him, eager to get home to bed. We both exited the train together and I hesitated, looking at Spencer carefully. "Well, Spence, I guess this is goodbye." I turned and began to walk away until I felt that somewhat now familiar hand grasp mine.

"You can't honestly expect me to let you walk home alone," he chided. I shrugged, not entirely surprised or disappointed. I had to admit I had been enjoying his company and really didn't want to part ways quite yet.

"Just don't expect to be let in for coffee," I joked, winking at him. Spencer stared at me, seemingly baffled for a moment. "Sex, Spence, I'm talking about having sex."

"Oh, right, well I wouldn't dream about it. Not to say you're not pretty. You're actually highly attractive but having intercourse after only just having-"

"It was a joke, relax. I won't try to take advantage of you." I smiled at him and wondered briefly if he could be any stranger or socially awkward.

We began to walk down the dimly lit streets of Fredericksburg to my two storey walk up. It only took us fifteen minutes, but by the time we arrived we had fully discussed the nuances of some of my favourite classic books, primarily The Picture of Dorian Gray and Pride and Prejudice.

"You aren't getting it Spence, my issue isn't with Darcy, per se, but with the whole situation. I mean, if he had just manned up and told her how he felt there wouldn't have been a misunderstanding," I explained, exasperated with the conversation.

"So you think all men should be neanderthalic in nature and grab their mate?" he asked, getting equally defensive and into the debate. I sighed deeply, feeling as I used to in high school when I wasn't understood.

"Not neanderthalic, but men should definitely be more forward with what they want, in a polite way. I mean, say you wanted to kiss me, I'd want you to be upfront with that. I mean, I'm twenty-five and don't have time to play the high school 'does he like me' game, you know?"

"Well not really, I finished high school at age twelve," he trailed off, blushing and staring at his feet. I simply stared at him, dumbstruck.

"You're joking right?"

"I guess I'm kind of a genius," he admitted, still refusing to look at me. I took his chin in my hand and turned his face up to look at me.

"Don't ever be embarrassed by your intelligence Spencer. It's something to be proud of. Hell I'm somewhat jealous." We stared at each other for a full minute. Not saying anything, not continuing the conversation, just looking into one anothers eyes and I felt something change. It was something tiny and almost imperceptible, but it was definitely a change.

If I had known then, what I know now, then I would have packed up that day and ran, never looking back. If I had known the impact Spencer would have on my life then I wouldn't have moved forward.

"Lily, would I be able to see you again? Maybe have coffee together, or dinner? Or even just sit somewhere and talk further?" Spencer's speech was halting and I could sense his nerves. Something in me clicked and I found myself unconsciously responding.

"I work today - tomorrow - from eight to five and don't have to work at the bar." I thought for a minute, then pulled a pen out of my pocket and grabbed Spencer's hand, quickly jotting down my phone number before I changed my mind. "Call me at twelve while I'm on my lunch if you still want to do something, okay?" I smiled at him and quickly hurried into the building, not wanting to stay any longer and see possible rejection on his face. I ran like I always did, but this time I wasn't running far, just into my apartment until tomorrow.

I climbed the two flights of stairs quickly and approached my apartment, sighing as I heard my neighbour yelling at his girlfriend again. I hoped they'd shut up long enough for me to sleep since my bedroom shared a wall with theirs. Entering my home I threw my keys and bag onto the small end table by the door and kicked off my shoes. A large mass wandered towards me and I smiled at my mutt.

"Hey there Miller," I whispered, reaching down to stroke his soft ears as he pressed himself against my body. I pushed him away gently and brought him to the back porch where I had set up a small patch of grass for him to use the bathroom throughout the day without having to be let out downstairs. He did his business and wandered back inside. I quickly locked the door - always paranoid - and we wandered into the bathroom together where he sat watching me as I removed my makeup.

I sighed deeply as I surveyed myself in the mirror. I was feeling old, there were bags under my eyes and my hair was starting to seem limp. Everything about me seemed tired. Now that my face was clear of makeup, the imperfections stood to attention. The scar at the corner of my lip was vibrant. The bags too prominent. The barely there bruise on my cheek seemed like a neon sign to my critical eye. It had been two months and it was the last bit of my past that I hadn't managed to be rid of yet.

I turned away from the mirror sharply, not wanting to do that to myself - to be overly critical of my appearance - and headed to the bedroom, Miller hot on my heels. We climbed into bed together and I was asleep almost immediately, exhausted from my night, and comforted by the presence of my shepherd cross that looked more wolf than anything somehow. He curled into my stomach and I buried my face into his warm fur, drifting into a private oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

**We can never flee the misery that is within us. - Arthur Golden, **_**Memoirs of a Geisha**_

Morning came too soon, as it always did when I was exhausted. My alarm clock was blasting a cheerful tune at me obnoxiously. Miller growled low in his throat as I rolled over and slammed my hand onto the off switch. I rolled onto my back and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"How much trouble would I be in, if I called in sick?" I wondered. Miller snorted and reached up to lick my face. I chuckled softly and stroked his soft head. "Thanks buddy. I guess I'll get up, on the bright side, this is my last shift at either job for three more days." Swinging my legs out of bed, I sat up and stretched my arms high above my head, cracking my spine. Wandering slowly to the bathroom, I wondered about the strange, awkward man I had met last night. Was Spence always like that? Was he really a genius that had finished high school when he was twelve or was he exaggerating? What section of the FBI was he a part of, and considering that, was it really the best idea for me, and illegal immigrant technically, to start getting involved with him?

I quickly hopped in and out of the shower in record time and was just finishing applying my makeup when a knock came at the door. Miller barrelled down the hallway, barking and snarling, while I hurried after him, cursing. I grabbed at his collar and yanked the door open, forgetting in my haste to check through the peephole first, only to see Spence standing before me, a blush gracing his cheeks as his eyes roved over my body then sharpley looked at his feet. I clutched my towel a little tighter to my body and shooed Miller back into the apartment.

"Spence? What are you doing here? It's, like, 6:30 in the morning," I questioned, incredulous. Spence stared at Miller who was standing a few feet behind me, hackles up and watching the man carefully. I looked over the thin, frazzled looking man before me. Spence glanced up into my eyes, tactfully avoiding looking at my towel clad body and held up a cardboard tray with two coffee cups and a small bag on it.

"Um, well I remembered that you said you had to work really early and I was wondering if you'd like to have a quick breakfast with me? I mean if you wouldn't like to then that's completely fine, I just figured you wouldn't have had time and thought it might be nice since the bakery down the road makes the greatest bagels. And I didn't know how you liked your coffee so I just got it black, you have mil-"

"Why don't you come in Spence?" I cut him off, taking the tray from him and smiling. I was beginning to realize that if he wasn't interrupted, sometimes the man could just go off on a never

ending tangent. I headed into the kitchen and laid the tray on the table, grabbing milk from the fridge and the sugar bowl, I placed them beside the delicious smelling surprise. After a moment I heard the door shut.

"Should I ta-"

"Leave your shoes on Spencer, it's okay." I heard him chuckle nervously as he made his way into the kitchen to join me. Studying his face, I realized that there was a pale blush across the bridge of his nose as he kept his eyes on everything except for me, and I internally chuckled, pleased to know that I was causing a primal reaction in this distant alleged genius. Clearing my throat I moved towards the hallway. "I'm just going to go get changed, I'll be right back, make yourself comfortable, and don't mind Miller. He won't attack you."

"Sure." His voice cracked slightly and the man cleared his throat. "Um, would you like me to toast a bagel for you?" I smiled softly and nodded, before turning and heading quickly to my bedroom. I pulled on my burgundy polo shirt and black pants. The diner uniform was such a strange contrast to the bar one. I was still unsure about which I found more comfortable. I quickly threw my long red hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head and slipped on my shoes, before leaving my bedroom and heading back out to the kitchen.

Spence was sitting at the table, discretely feeding Miller bits of cheese off his bagel. The second one was on a plate, perfectly toasted and awaiting me. Spence glanced up at me and smiled, seemingly relieved to find me finally clothed. I inwardly cringed, I seemed to make the worst impressions on people. The first time we met I accused him of trying to solicit a night with me. The second time I only wore a towel.

'If this keeps up he really is going to think I'm a hooker,' I thought to myself, and sat at the table across from him, pouring a bit of milk into my coffee and buttering my bagel quietly.

"I'm sure you're girlfriend wouldn't be too pleased if she found out that you were basically stalking me," I teased him, a serious expression on my face. Spence jerked his head up from Miller sharply and looked at me horrified.

"No you, I mean, I don't have a girlfriend," he sputtered, hurriedly occupying his mouth with a quick sip of coffee. I smirked at you.

"What, a genius FBI stud like you doesn't have a missus at home?" I smirked at him and he visibly relaxed, realizing I was teasing him.

"Well Morgan is the stud of the team actually. I'm more the awkward geeky younger brother that can't get a date to save his life." I laughed outright at this admission and Spence smiled at me.

"Your team? What exactly do you do?" I asked, holding my breath slightly. This would be where he admits that he deals with 'illegal aliens' and was actually here to deport my ass back to Toronto.

"Behavioural Analysis Unit. We, um, we chase down serial killers basically," he explained. I looked at him shocked.

"Wait, so you're whole job is to run after psychopaths?" I looked over him again, noticing a bit more about the lanky man now that I knew him better. I could see the lean muscles beneath his dress shirt and vest that came from intensive training. There was a gun on his hip that I hadn't noticed before. His body was alert, and he kept casually glancing at all the windows and doors, as if preparing himself incase the worst happened. He really was an agent. Spence chuckled.

"Well, I do more of the 'think like a criminal' type of thing. Morgan is more of the 'run after psychopaths' type. I work more with geographical profiles, reading journals the killers may have, stuff like that," he explained to me. I nodded, understanding a bit more. The way Spence referred to Morgan, I could tell that he meant a lot to this man.

"But, have you ever been, you know, shot?" I looked at him incredulously. I still couldn't believe that the awkward, lanky, sweet man before me could chase down killers, let alone possibly shoot one and kill a man.

"Well... Yes, I mean, it kind of comes with the territory, you know what I mean? I've had my fair share of run ins with danger. Kidnapped, shot, stabbed. Not that I'm bragging or anything, it's just kind of my job hazard." He looked into my eyes, nervously. "Is that too intense? I mean, a lot of people can't really handle that. The average duration of relationships with a person working in the bureau is really short actually. Only two out of the team of seven are in a relationship right now. The rest of us have been divorced or broken up or in my case never really had a relationship to start."

"It's not too intense Spence. I mean, it's not like I'm marrying you. We're just having coffee." I eyed him carefully. I couldn't have a real relationship, but not for the reasons he thinks. A door down the hallway opened and Spence's hand went to his gun, eyeing the hall carefully and inwardly I sighed. This was the reason I can't.

"Mommy?"


End file.
